The Fairy Ring Ch 02

This story depicts incest, non-consensual sex, and abuse of authority as part of a fantasy tale, but it does not promote or endorse these behaviours in real life. All characters are the age of consent or older for their species.

As the story makes references to plot and character elements from earlier chapters, reading the story from the beginning is recommended.

*****

***** TWO DAYS BEFORE MAY DAY -- NIGHTTIME *****

*** Checking Out the Costumes ***

Brad and Harmony made quick work of dinner, during which they reminisced about their childhood together. Then Brad talked a bit about college and how much he had missed her, and she filled him in on her role-playing interests and how much she had missed him.

"So what do you want to do tonight?" she said, clearing the dishes.

"I thought you were the entertainment director. Why don't we build a fire in the fireplace and just read together?"

"That sounds lame."

"Okay then, maybe there are some board games somewhere." He started filling up the sink to wash the dishes. "Cottages always have board games."

"Hey wait. I know. That room upstairs that Mistress Lilin showed me is filled with costumes. We should try some on. Maybe we can figure a new angle for your LARP scenario."

He wasn't too sure about that idea, but she looked pretty excited about it. "Okay," he replied, "but I'm not putting on that incubus costume again."

"Why?" Slinking up to him, she fondled his ass cheek. "I liked your little flappy skirt."

"Hey, no touching." He swatted at her hand. "My loincloth? No ma'am, you've seen enough of my body today."

"I'll say," she said as she skipped out the door. "I'm going to go see what they've got."

Finding the dish rack and a pot scrubber, he got to work. He was happy that she was happy. Maybe she's right about their situation. Crazy things had happened, but everything was quiet now. Maybe they didn't need to rush home yet.

After a bit, his sister cleared her throat to announce herself at the door. Dressed in a white, floor-length gown, she had on a long, blonde wig with a crown of plastic wildflowers, and poking through the wig were a couple of pointed ears. She looked remarkably like she could be Uriel's daughter.

"

Suilad

," she said in what sounded like Swedish to him. "

I eneth nîn Aerin

." Slowly flapping her arms up and down, she showed off the filmy material of her sleeves, which wafted in the air as her arms fluttered.

"What the hell was that you said?" he asked as he gazed at her, dishwater dripping off his hands onto the floor. Seeing her dressed like that gave him a flashback of Uriel, and it got him wondering if Uriel was really just a cosplayer. Maybe everything that is going on is indeed just an elaborate LARP experience.

"I was just greeting you in elvish. I told you that my name is Aerin."

"Elvish? That's pretty nerdy," he said, thinking for a moment that maybe Harmony, dressed as an elf, could confront the neighbours. Show them that he wasn't fooled by their role-playing ruse. Maybe it could be a Scooby Doo moment. Or maybe, that's what they wanted them to do—a LARP within a LARP. Or maybe he was just overthinking this. He shook his head.

His sister stepped into the light. The gown's material was light and translucent all over, not just in the sleeves. He could see the outline of her little body underneath. Her areolas came into view as dark circles.

"Whoa," he said. "You might want to put some underclothes on."

"You shouldn't be noticing that, pervy bro." She twirled around, letting the gown's sleeves and hem sweep through the air as she spun. Through the material, he could see the curves of her bum and breasts and the shadowy clefts of her bum and pussy. He was ashamed by how aroused he was getting.

"Elves don't wear underclothes," she said as she spun. "They're one with nature."

At the end of her twirl, she bumped against him with a giggle. Feeling uncomfortable, he retreated, and grinning, she followed him until he backed into the kitchen counter. She pressed against him, standing between his legs, smiling at how uneasy she was making him.

"So do I look like Uriel, the sex-slave elf?" She rested her hands on his stomach.

"As a matter of fact, you do."

"Uh-huh. The one that's imprisoned next door? The one that you're not making up at all?" she chided him, pulling up his t-shirt to slide her hands underneath. "So do you want me to see if I can find a leash upstairs?" She slid her hands up his chest. "Is that the kind of role-playing you want to do tonight?"

"Don't screw around, sis." He pushed her back. "Isn't there something else you can put on? Something more modest?"

"Okay," she huffed. "But it's mostly bikinis and thongs and loincloths up there, so I can't promise you modesty. Come help me look."

"Let me finish, and then I'll be up." He hoped that he wasn't about to suffer a night of teasing. Watching her little bum jiggle under her gown as she went out the door, he started to stiffen.

Just as he finished, she called out from upstairs that she was ready. He climbed the stairs with some trepidation. She seemed determined to act out tonight, but he was curious about what was in that room.

"Arrr!" she cried as he opened the door. Wielding a prop longsword with both hands, she took a stance as if to strike him, causing him to jump back. "I am Brumhilde, queen of the people of the north." Shockingly, she had on an open-weave chainmail outfit—halter top, miniskirt, and bonnet—and nothing else but skin.

"Good god!" he exclaimed, seeing her nipples poking through the links in the mail and her pussy lips peeking at him from behind the open weave. "Put something on under that!" He held his hands out in front of him to shield his eyes.

"I know, right?" She pulled out on her halter top. "The metal loops keep catching on my nipples."

"How is this modest? Are you trying to provoke me?"

"Oh, you're too smart for me." Giggling, she teased the tip of her sword on the front of his pants, poking at his erection. "I think it's working too."

"I'm leaving."

"No, don't go. Help me find something else."

Probably a good idea. He needed to assert some control, apparently. As she ducked behind a rack of costumes, he entered the room.

The converted bedroom was filled with costumes hanging on racks, on the walls, and in the closet. His sister had been correct about how skimpy they all were. He was forming a conclusion about the type of role-playing events Roxanne was running here. Roxanne's and Phoebe's seductions fell into context now.

"Hey, they have other types of costumes back here," she said behind a couple of racks in the back. Appearing around the end of a rack, she had replaced her chainmail bonnet with a nurse's cap and was holding a short nurse's uniform in front of her.

"Oh no."

"Come on, bro. Remember when we played doctor as kids?"

He coughed. "Yeah. We played it that one time, and we stopped because things got really weird. That was the first time that you saw my, uh, manhood."

"Your wiener? Oh bro, that wasn't the first time."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you should close the door when you pee," she said, approaching him with the outfit. "Please, can I be a nurse? I think I saw some scrubs back there for you." Then she traced her finger down his chest to his waistband. "I also saw a hospital gown. You could be my patient."

"No! Pick something else. Something less, um, clinical."

"Spoil sport," she said, turning around and twerking the back of her chainmail skirt up at him, causing it to rattle as it fell back on her bum. She disappeared back behind the racks. "And you've been flashing your bulge at me all day today, so I don't know why the nurse can't check you out now."

"What is wrong with you tonight? Did Phoebe slip you an aphrodisiac or something?"

"Don't flatter yourself. You are resistible," she said from the back of the room. "Hey, how about superheroes?"

"I thought you were looking for a LARP character?" The costumes in the racks in front of him all seemed to be fantasy based. He scanned them for something appropriate.

"How about Tinkerbell?" Over top of the racks, he could see her holding up a green dress on a hanger with a blonde wig tied to it. "You said you saw fairies. Fairies are LARPy."

"I really did see fairies, sis," he responded as she lowered her Disney suggestion.

"Uh-huh. I believe you," she said. "Well look around. See if you can find a LARP costume that's not just a leather bikini with some fur and laces tacked on."

He scanned the racks in front of him. Holding up a couple of insubstantial costumes, he had to agree with her assessment.

"Maybe they do porn shoots here," she suggested. "Hey, there's an idea."

"No!"

Suddenly, her chainmail skirt flew over top of the racks at him, clattering on the floor. "We're doing superheroes then."

"What are you doing?" he asked as the other chainmail pieces arced over the racks at his head.

"I'm changing. You have to promise to put on whatever I pick out for you."

"I'm not making any promises," he said just as the costumes hanging on the rack in front of him split apart and his sister slinked through the opening. She was dressed in a stretchy, black, tight-fitting bodysuit.

"Meow," she purred as she prowled toward him in black, thigh-high boots. With a long zipper down the front and a cat-eared cowl covering her head, the Catwoman suit hugged all her curves and crevices. It looked painted on. In black, elbow-length gloves, she held out an outfit for him—Batman, based on the colours.

He snickered at her overacting, but she actually seemed a bit menacing in her approach, and he was taken aback by how sexy she looked. The suit left nothing to the imagination.

"Wow," he said, his snickering turning into a swallow.

"You like?" Fluttering her eyelids at him through the large eye-holes of the cowl, she caressed his cheek in a long stroke with her gloved hand. The metal fingernails on the glove lightly scratched his skin. "Isn't it purrfect?" Her tongue vibrated as she spoke.

"I ... um ... I don't think I'm the superhero type." Feeling his outfit, he realized that its stretchy material and his growing hard-on were not a good mix.

Pursing her lips, she unhooked a whip from her belt and dangled the end playfully across the tops of his shoes. "Purrhaps, I can purrsuade you, Batman."

Looping the whip around his neck, she pulled him to her face. "Go change so that I can purruse your cos-ss-stume," she hissed, her lips almost touching his mouth. Flicking out her tongue, she licked the end of his nose.

He flinched back but was stopped by her hold on the whip. Then she slipped the whip off his neck, staring into his eyes and pursing her lips as the cord slid off. He swallowed again.

"Okay," he said as he turned to leave. "But I'm just putting it on to see it. I'm not doing any play acting. You're getting a little weird."

"You can change in here, Batman," she said. "I won't peek. I promise." She rattled her tongue at him in a loud purr.

"No, that's not happening."

Before he could close the door on his way out, he felt a sharp sting on his buttocks followed the sound of a snap. Rubbing his ass cheek, he turned back to see his sister covering her mouth with her hand and laughing uncontrollably.

"Oh my god. I am so sorry," she said, the whip dangling in her hand. "I didn't know I could do that."

Walking down the hall to his room with the costume, he could hear her breaking up in the costume room. "Come back," she called out, giggling as she spoke. "I'll kiss it better."

What had gotten into her, he wondered as he rubbed his ass cheek. Maybe Phoebe had drugged her or influenced her in some way. Then he had a thought. Maybe that was Phoebe, not his sister.

Running to his window, he looked across at the cottage. The light was on in the kitchen. Phoebe was sitting at the kitchen table as Roxanne passed in front of the window. Was that good news that it wasn't Phoebe who had been teasing him or bad news that it was his sister who was doing it?

He looked down at his Batman outfit. Maybe he shouldn't put it on, especially with his hard-on. Why tempt fate. But then again, it might be better to let her get it out of her system. She was having fun with him, but she knew her limits. As he changed, he thought about how, after this, they could go downstairs, make some hot chocolate, sit by the fire, and be wholesome again.

The grey bodysuit was more like the Adam West type suit from the television series than the movie version. Stretching it over his shoulder, he guessed that it was probably a size too small. There was a long zipper in the back, which he would have to get Harmony to do up for him, and a discreet little zipper at the crotch for taking a piss—good design.

Trying the little zipper, he realized that he couldn't wear underpants if he ever wanted to use it, so he took off the costume, removed his underpants, and put the suit back on, along with the long, black boots and gloves.

Looking down, he was embarrassed to see the obvious outline of his hard cock in the tight suit.

"I think you're missing something," Harmony said on the other side of the door.

"Hang on." Seeing a pair of loose, shiny, black shorts, he scrambled to put them on over the suit. Thankfully, the shorts covered his arousal.

"I think this goes with it," his sister said, holding up the utility belt as she entered.

"Hey," he barked. "I didn't say you could come in."

She giggled. "Why Batman? Are you afraid I'll find out your secret identity?" Handing him the belt, she did up his zipper in the back.

"Wait next time," he said as he clicked shut his belt in the front and then put on his cowl.

"Sorry, were you jerking off again?" She helped attach the cape on his cowl to fasteners on his shoulders.

"Why do you have to go there? I'm just asking for some privacy."

"I thought you might have gotten turned on wearing a skin-tight leotard." She playfully pinch-snapped his bodysuit on his stomach and thighs.

"Stop it."

"Hey, what's this on the back of the belt?" she said, tugging on something behind him. He reached back to help. Suddenly, he heard a couple of clicks and felt something snug against his wrists—handcuffs.

"Just one more," she said before a final click. He couldn't bring his hands back around, and when he moved his arms, he felt like he was pulling the dresser.

"There," she said, tickling the metal tips of her gloved fingers on his cheek. "I've got you now, Batman."

"What are you doing?" Jerking his arms, he heard the dresser rattle, but he wasn't going anywhere.

"I found them in the utility belt. I thought it would be fun."

"Well, it's not fun. Take them off."

"No, play along." Then her voice became more feline. "Now that I have you in my s-s-snare, Batman, you have to tell me what I need to know." As she ran her fingers down his cheek, he felt the metal nails again.

"I am going to make you talk, Caped Crusader," she hissed, pinching his cheeks together and leaning close to his face, almost touching his puckered lips.

"Take the cuffs off, Harmony," he tried to say through his squeezed mouth.

"Meow." She pushed his face upward to lick his throat. "Catwoman needs to know if you have the hots for your sister." The licking sent a thrill down his spine.

"All right. Game's over." He struggled against his cuffs. "Let me go."

"Don't be a fool, Batman." She traced a finger from his mouth down his neck, his chest, and stomach. "There is no escape for you now." Then, as she ran her finger over his bulge, she broke character. "Oh my god, bro. How hard are you?" She poked at his shorts a couple of times with her metal fingertip.

"Don't do that. Let me go."

"Is that uncomfortable? Should I do something?" She pulled out on his waistband. "Oh my god, I can see your erection through your suit."

"Harmony, I'm being serious now. Take the cuffs off!"

"You're not going to cum, are you? When Phoebe was here, you came in your shorts." She looked inside the shorts again. "Hey, there a zipper down there. I should pull it out so you don't ruin the costume."

"Do not touch the zipper!"

"I can do this, bro." She reached into his shorts. He felt her hand fumbling around, incidentally rubbing his shaft through the suit. Inserting her other hand, she continued to grasp and fumble, squeezing his cock as she tried to work the zipper.

She shifted toward him. He could feel her breath on his neck. Then he felt the zipper going down, the rough teeth scratched the underside of his cock.

"Don't, don't, don't," he begged.

"I'm getting it, bro. How come it's not coming out? I think it's stuck." She reached through the zipper. He could feel the glove fingers on his cock. It was too much.

"I'm touching it. Eww." Pulling on the midpoint of the hard shaft, she bent his cock as she extracted it through the small opening, the zipper chewing on his tender skin.

"Ow."

"What's wrong? Don't cum." She peeked behind the waistband again. With a giggle, she said, "It's looking back at me.

"The zipper was just a bit rough, that's all."

"Oh, sorry. Here, let me rub it a bit."

"Oh god, don't do that." But she stroked him. He could feel the latex fingers rubbing his shaft.

"Is that better?" She rubbed and rubbed. A wave of pleasure ran down into his balls. He would cum if she kept that up.

"Stop doing that. Let me go!" He jerked his arms again, causing the cuffs to rumble on the wood drawer.

"Why? Are you going to cum?" she exclaimed, yanking her hands out. "Oh no, don't make a mess in the shorts." In a panic, she reached in again to pull his erection out through a leghole. Her pulling on it felt excruciatingly good. He was going to lose it.

"Look how red it is. You must really be sore. Did I do that?" She began rubbing it again. His cock stretched out through the leghole desperately as if it were trying to escape his outfit.

"Stop rubbing it, or I'll cum."

She kept rubbing anyways. "Well, I don't know what else to do." Rubbing and rubbing. "Here, let me kiss it." Bending down, she pressed her little lips on top of his cockhead, and then she kissed down his shaft.

"Did that make it feel better?" she asked, her cute face next to his cock.

"Oh god," he screamed. "I'm cumming!"

"Not on the costume," she shouted, grasping him firmly around the shaft and pointing him outward.

Spurt after spurt flew out onto the floor. He looked down to see his little sister's gloved hand holding his spurting cock.

Releasing him and clasping her hands to her face, she stared at him wide-eyed. His cock slowly dangled down, a last string of cum dripping onto the floor. He was too embarrassed to look back at her.

"That ... was ... amazing," she said through her hands. "Oh my god."

"I think you can uncuff me now."

"No, you're mad. You have to cool down first. Let me clean you up."

Running to the bathroom, she returned with a hot towel. Her hand massaged his deflating cock, the warmth of the towel soothing it. After she wiped him off, she placed the key for the handcuffs into his hand.

"Harmony, I can't unlock it like this. You need to do it."

"You're still too mad. Here." Unlocking the cuff attached to the dresser, she threw the key on the floor and sprinted off. As he heard her slam her door, he sighed. Stepping through his cuffed arms, he unlocked himself.

"Harmony, I'm not mad," he said as he knocked on her door. "We have to talk about this. Besides, you have to unzip me."

Opening the door a crack, she looked out at him with a big pout. "Are you really not mad?"